


Something Wicked

by channelorange72



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Angry Sex, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Cannon up until 3x03, F/F, Gone off the rails after 3x03, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:48:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24179206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/channelorange72/pseuds/channelorange72
Summary: Wounds and desire: a war of wills.
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 51
Kudos: 293





	1. Chapter 1

******  
Villanelle was drunk. Well, not drunk just...buzzed. Slouched at the bar counter, her head resting on her left arm, she studied her hand with repulsed, distracted fascination.

That woman at the other end of the bar was ogling her fairly openly. She was pretty, too. Villanelle closed her eyes and turned her head slightly. 

She downed her gin and tonic and ordered one more. She tipped back the drink, then threw the empty glass over her shoulder, relishing the small crash and tinkling of glass. The bartender turned to her viciously. "Hey, asshole!” The woman ogling her widened her eyes in alarm.

Villanelle stared back at her with dead eyes and raised herself from the stool. The woman turned to the guy at her side for more cheerful company. Villanelle stepped out into the frigid night air and huddled against the cold, zipping up her jacket. 

She stopped, looking around. Where was she, anyway? Her head was floating. She leaned against the wall, thinking. Yeah, right, London.

London. What was it about London?

Right. Eve. That was it—Eve's apartment. 

Somehow, Villanelle was sober enough to make the connection and drunk enough to think she'd just had a good idea.

It was just a couple of blocks away.  
  
****************************

In the dream, Villanelle was an Amur tigress who stalked her territory in a light fall of dry snow, the dawn bleeding crimson into the indigo horizon.

In the dream, it was not the dirty, winter of this godawful city, but the incandescent white winter of sub-arctic Russia. She paced the perimeter of her kingdom on a grim, single-minded quest of defense and hunt. Around her, the dark conifer forest stood laced and sparkling with snow that caught the sanguinary hues of the dawn. Behind her, the falling snow covered the tracks of her silent progress.

The tigress scented blood and stopped immediately, her heart slowing to a deadly, calculated pace. She turned around, following the blood-scent with quiet purpose, gliding like a pale shadow between the snowy, rose-tinted trees. She was hungry. Blood meant life.

Suddenly, the trees gave way to a clearing. She stopped at the edge of the trees, cautiously surveying the monochromatic landscape. There seemed to be nothing there. A sudden movement in her peripheral vision caused her to tense and turn. There, on the far side of the clearing, something was watching.

It was a Siberian wolf. It wasn't a natural beast, but the enchanted white wolf of ancient fairy-tales with eyes like cold blue jewels in her snow-white face. She returned the tigress’s gaze with glacial contempt, showing none of the fear of her lesser adversaries.

But in her silver-white fur, gashes from mighty claws ran sideways and vertical. Blood was seeping into the fur and the snow beneath her slowly, but fatally. The wolf was familiar with death and must have known that night was closing in on her, but the defiant glint in her eyes showed that she had hours of fight in her yet.

The tigress stood still for long minutes as if bound by a spell, imperially matching her burning gaze to the wolf's icy one, her brain grappling with some hitherto unknown reaction. It was not quite empathy, but it was uncomfortable. Her heart was pounding like it did during a kill, but the hunger she felt was alien, something of the mind and not the body.

The tigress lowered her big head, turning back, and in doing so, she discovered without surprise the dark frozen blood crusting her front paws, and the strands of white fur caught in her claws. Not looking back, she felt the gleam of two arctic jewels following her retreat, shining without gratitude, without hope.

The tigress retraced her invisible tracks. She returned to her patient vigil of survival, facing a siege that would never end.

****************************

"Don't move."

Villanelle roused, sleep-drugged, fighting her way out of a cold dream. On some semi-conscious level, she knew there had been sounds before this; a door banging shut, footsteps clicking on hardwood flooring, a sharp intake of breath, an object falling to the floor with the dry shattering sound of something fragile breaking. But these had all been interpreted into surreal elements of some tenacious dreamscape.

"Don't move, or I'll..." The voice - a familiar, woman's voice, cool even in the heat of fury - told her that she meant business. Villanelle gave up the attempt at coordinating her movements into defense. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes.

"In my apartment," the wolf snarled. "You have the gall to make yourself at home in *my* apartment." She shook in fury, and dark hair danced on her shoulders, and finally, Villanelle's mind climbed out of the deep cellar of unconsciousness and recognized Eve.

Slowly, Eve backed up and reached out a hand for the light switch without looking; the gun pointed at her all the while. Light flooded the room and painted Eve in blazing colors, the vibrancy of her hair, her startled eyes. 

Something about her stance caught Villanelle’s attention. Eve was wobbly...swaying. Eve reached out an arm and steadied herself briefly against the wall. 

Villanelle then noticed the flushed heat of her cheeks, the conspicuous brilliance of her eyes, and the truth dawned on her. Oh, great. Eve was... well... *significantly* inebriated. Villanelle felt suddenly, completely sober herself, and finally, wide awake.

Eve put one hand into the deep pocket of her coat and fished out her cell phone, watching her with menace.   
"Stay there," Eve warned, her attention drawn away from the phone momentarily. Villanelle made up her mind in a split second.

Villanelle held her gaze with an open, snake-charmer stare, pulling her jacket to the side and fishing out her gun from the holster with two fingers. She let it drop to the floor and kicked it carefully her way.

“Sign of goodwill, Eve," Villanelle explained. Okay, so she had a knife in an ankle strap and a small gun in a holster under her shirt. Her goodwill didn't override her instinct for survival, but a nice gesture never hurt, did it?

Seeing Eve’s hand jerking dangerously, Villanelle had a revelation. “You are really scared of me, aren't you?"

Eve made a gasping sound that was half unamused laughter, half rage. "Don't flatter yourself. It's not fear; it's common sense."  
  
“I didn't come here to hurt you, Eve." Villanelle moved again, pointedly ignoring Eve’s gaze and the gun, fixing her attention instead on the shopping bag in the middle of the floor. "Something broke," she said. "Eggs?"

Now Eve stared in disbelief as Villanelle picked up the bag and proceeded to the kitchen, turning her back to Eve with an air of cheerful nonchalance. Distraction was the key.   
  
"Turn around,” Eve snapped, following her, but Villanelle gave no reaction beyond a glance over her shoulder. Eve held her at gunpoint, the situation growing more absurd by the second while Villanelle emptied the bag of an assortment of fresh vegetables, ham, a carton of cream and a gooey cardboard carton which Villanelle contemplated with some concern. "Eggs," She affirmed.

"Well, we can probably still use them. Let me guess. You were planning on making an omelet?"

"Stop it," Eve commanded, her voice almost breaking. "What are you doing here?"

"Making you an omelet?" Villanelle suggested calmly.

"I don't want a goddamned omelet!"

"Doesn't look that way to me. You should eat something, anyway, or you'll have the mother of all hangovers tomorrow. Besides, you're too skinny."

Eve was silent for long seconds. Trying to wrap that methodical, but drunken mind around the outrageous, no doubt. Meanwhile, Villanelle rummaged in the nearest cupboard and found a bowl. Carefully, she emptied the broken eggs into it, turned to wash her hands with the soap in the dispenser by the kitchen sink, and returned to start picking out the fractured eggshells, dropping them in the sink as she proceeded.

Eve’s voice, at first misleadingly flat, rising gradually into teeth-grinding indignation. "What - are - you - *doing* here, Villanelle?"

"I needed a place to crash, so... here I am." Villanelle silently awarded herself extra points for her winsome little grin at the end.

"Don't..." Eve took a deep, steadying breath, continuing on a note of barely checked anger. "Are you trying to tell me that you used my apartment when you could have spent the night at a fancy hotel?"

"Fork?" Villanelle asked, knitting her brow pensively as she rooted through drawers.

Eve stared at her. Villanelle glanced at her askance - then did a double-take, narrowing her eyes to a sharp focus.

Eve was drunk. She was furious and confused, and beneath that, Eve looked beat. But above all, Eve was different - different from the Eve with whom Villanelle was acquainted with, changed, on a fundamental level, like a creature emerging from a chrysalis. Villanelle hadn’t noticed it during their earlier tête-à-tête in the bus, because of all the head butting and the unexpected kissing. Still, as Eve stared at her under the dark sweep of her lashes, the solemn arcs of her brows, Villanelle registered in wonderment what she hadn't noticed until now. There was something of a beautiful bird-of-prey likeness about her now - a strong, relentless functionality imprinted on that small frame.

Eve stroked her hair back from her flushed face, the scents surrounding her were the coolness of the air and the mustiness of damp wool and the tartness of wine and the light floral note of her perfume.

"What the hell are you looking at?" Eve asked, seeming to pull herself out of some trance. Villanelle returned to the task at hand, finding a fork in a drawer next to the stove and started to blend the cream into the eggs, considering her question. Then she colored her voice a neutral nuance like dry grass and answered truthfully:

"You look different, Eve."

Eve didn't answer, didn't even arch her brow. She looked hot, uncomfortably so. She kicked off her shoes with a petulant vindictiveness Villanelle associated with a child, then proceeded to unbutton and shrug off her coat. The slump of her shoulders suggested dejection, Villanelle thought. Then her coat fell, and Villanelle lost the ability to think for a while.

Eve wore a black dress. A dress of thin, clingy velvet with a neckline that bared the pale upper swell of her breasts. A sleeveless dress that skimmed her curves and ended right above her knees.

It was a dress for an *occasion*, Villanelle thought and noticed now how her hair looked somewhat different too, curls starting to loosen and fall forwards from an originally tidy arrangement at the nape of her neck. Her face looked like it had been carefully made up, but the makeup had mostly rubbed off, which made her look vulnerable, in a strangely sensual way.

Slowly, pieces clicked in a puzzle Villanelle hadn't even perceived until now. Eve had been on what she guessed was a date, yet she had come home with a grocery bag full of food... 

“You got stood up, huh?” Villanelle chanced a guess.

Eve stared at her for long seconds, and for a dizzy moment, Villanelle caught a glimpse of the landscape behind that magnificent mask, some polar, ice-locked coast where unshed tears petrified into the permafrost before they ever could thaw the ground. She pushed her hair back from her temple, a gesture echoing the angry bewilderment in her eyes. 

"None of your business," Eve snapped, suddenly avoiding her gaze.

Eve started as she caught the mirror image of the two of them reflected in the dark window as if the tableau were something completely unexpected. The instant double-take was followed by the distanced fascination of someone watching a film. 

Villanelle became aware of Eve studying her in the window, with an expression of revelation on her face that she couldn't fathom.

"So, here you are," Eve stated cryptically, her calm contralto abruptly devoid of amusement.

Villanelle thought the confusion in Eve’s face might mirror her own. There had been a change of some kind. Like continental plates shifting, the upheaval landing them on a different emotional latitude. The look in Eve's eyes reminded her of a startled beast. The sudden wary stare of something wild sensing an unknown presence. Villanelle thought she could feel Eve’s body radiate heat off her in waves, feral.

"Do you like my dress?" Eve said huskily, sounding more vulnerable than Villanelle suspected Eve wanted. How drunk was she? She smoothed down the shimmery velvet over her ribs and her waist and her hips with nervous hands. Was Eve preening for her? Something about that slow, shy stroke of her hand mesmerized Villanelle and made her feel slightly sweaty. She was shocked to note the tell-tale dilation of Eve’s pupils. Was that arousal, defiance, despair? All of the above?

Then, looking Villanelle squarely in the eyes, Eve deliberately placed the gun and phone on the counter, and Villanelle felt her pulse kick into high gear.

"The dress is nice," she said.

" Why don't you just get the hell out of here?" Eve said in a flat, dull voice. She looked her natural pissed-off self again but hurt under the anger.

Villanelle stood rooted to the spot for a few seconds as Eve walked a bit unsteadily to the front door and opened it for her. Then, sluggishly, Villanelle made up her mind, and started moving, stooping to pick up her gun on the way.

But she couldn't resist a last look, turning as Eve moved towards the door. Eve raised her glance too in the same second, off-guard, with that ice-scape of hardened longing in her eyes... And Villanelle lingered, her heart rate picking up.

So, maybe this *was* crazy, but she wanted to do something right for once. Villanelle simply wanted to do right by Eve. She tried to show Eve that she could get it right. Right.

Villanelle stepped back inside and closed the door, cornering Eve behind it, crowding her without touching her. A sudden, apprehensive cry escaped from Eve’s throat; Villanelle didn't know whether it was fear of her specifically, some general sexual anxiety, or just shock at her spontaneous move. Eve looked up at her, wide-eyed.

"You're sexy as hell in that dress," Villanelle said quietly.

Eve caught her breath as Villanelle’s hand lifted to the juncture between her neck and shoulder, tracing the fragile line of her collarbone before rubbing sensually over the thin velvet of her dress. It was a strange sound, forlorn, small, like the last sobs of a child who had been crying for a long time. Villanelle raised her hand to Eve’s hair, smoothing it back with care.

Eve shrank from that touch, but stayed close, betraying some longing beyond her control, perhaps even beyond her full awareness.

" Just let me do this," Villanelle said huskily. " Let me make it better,” she moved her mouth to Eve’s parted lips.

Villanelle yelped at the sudden smarting pain in her lower lip, and her fingers flew up to soothe the spot where Eve had bitten her. "Eve, what the fuck!"

”'Make it better,' as if you could! Who the hell do you think you are?" Eve taunted her. "Some tender fantasy lover from Mills and Boon?"

Anger flared in Villanelle at this attack. After all, Eve had started this, hadn't she?

"I can be as tender as you want me to be, Eve," Villanelle hissed. "Or I can fuck you up against that door if you want. I can tie you down and fulfill your - ow!"

This time it was her cheek bearing the brunt of Eve’s fury. Grimacing, Villanelle rubbed at her prickling skin with the back of her hand for a couple of seconds before hurrying to catch Eve’s hand in mid-flight as it rose for another hit. Villanelle secured the other one too and pinned them against the wall on either side of Eve’s head, leaning over her ominously. Eve’s wrists were jerking with the desire to hit her, hurt her, score her with claw marks probably.

"It's your call, Eve," Villanelle informed Eve in clipped tones. "You started this; you tell me if you're going to go through with it."

"I did not! In your fucking dreams!”

"That little scene just now, asking me if I liked your dress, did I dream that too? Make up your mind, Eve. You've got half a minute."

Eve was magnificently, quietly furious. Villanelle rarely met anyone who could stare her down, but Eve didn't give an inch. They glared at each other at length. It was chilling, thrilling. Villanelle wanted to grind her hips into Eve’s, to shock her, intimidate her, but she told Eve that with her eyes instead. Thirty seconds passed, probably more. At long last, Villanelle laughed and let go of Eve’s wrists abruptly, and turned around for the door, swearing.

Villanelle wouldn't have believed the strength in Eve’s hand as it clamped down on her arm and jerked her around to face her. Eve held her there for a moment, her expression veering wildly between outrage, temptation, and reluctance, which abruptly gave way to one that made her pulse race. It spelled out a loud and clear, "Ah, what the hell." Villanelle stared at her, the unreality of the situation seeping in at last.

Then Eve was reeling her in, no concession in her face. "Let me explain things to you in simple terms," Eve said coldly. "You can drop the Don Juan bullshit. I *know* you, remember? I know you to your core. I just want you to shut the hell up and fuck me. Got that?"

Villanelle felt scorched by the dry ice of her voice. "So, you want a plain, generic fuck so you can pretend that I am someone else and that you are better than you are." Villanelle jerked her arm free and leaned into Eve, her voice falling to a husky warning. "Let me explain something to *you*. If I fuck you, it's going to be done my way or not at all, and when I make you scream, I need you to remember my name."

Villanelle wondered if that was some unwelcome self-insight registering as shock on Eve’s face. In a second, though, it sublimated it into arctic anger. "And why do you think you get to set any terms in the first place?"  
Villanelle laughed, touching her hand to Eve’s cheek with mocking gentleness. "Because as much as I want to fuck you, Eve, I somehow don't think I'm quite as desperate for this as you are."

Oh, now she got to see Eve blush. Eve straightened herself to her full, regrettably lacking height and drew a shaky breath to speak. Villanelle knew that the only options she had left Eve with were to chuck her out in fury or to rein her in and kiss her. Time to move in for the kill, then.

"Think about it, Eve," Villanelle said, purposely using her most seductive voice to charm her. "Tonight, it could be another human being kissing you, stroking you, holding you, fucking you - or it can be your own hands in your lonely bed. Is that such a difficult choice?" 

Eve looked mesmerized. Miserable as hell, but mesmerized. She took a deep, agitated breath and finally spat out the words. "Just... just do it, okay?"

With a vague sense of alarm at her relief, Villanelle drew her in, testing the stiff resistance in her spine. It occurred to Villanelle that she was looming over Eve. In an instinctive effort to eliminate whatever threat Eve saw in her, Villanelle fell to her knees, tracing her hands up along her back and pulling Eve with her, so she sat astride her lap, her dress riding up tantalizingly. They were almost face to face like this, and Villanelle leaned in and coaxed Eve with patient persistence into a kiss.

Eve’s mouth lay chaste and passive against her barely parted lips for some seconds, tasting of light, spicy wine. Villanelle waited, hearing her breath pick up, betraying her. Villanelle closed her hands lightly around Eve’s arms and glanced down at her rigid body. Villanelle could see the rapid agitation of her heart right through her dress, and Eve was trembling like she had a fever. It was clear that distress was overriding her desire now that the first hurdle was crossed, and Villanelle needed to change that. With a reassuring sound, Villanelle moved her lips against Eve’s, whispering. "I know you don't trust me, Eve. You don't have to. Tonight is a secret, okay? None of this is real."

Villanelle kissed the corner of Eve’s mouth. She kissed her cheek. She traced Eve’s delicate jawline lightly with her tongue and her teeth. Villanelle kissed Eve’s chin quickly, her throat slowly, closing her eyes as she felt it vibrate against her mouth with Eve’s soft moan. Now Eve swayed into her, hands fumbling over her shoulders for support as Eve sighed heavily like she was having trouble breathing. "I...Villanelle, I..."

Villanelle withdrew slowly, her eyes opening as if from a drugged state. She discovered that the fingers of her right hand, which had threaded into Eve’s hair, were flexing with pleasure. Her thumb caressed the light pulse at Eve’s temple. "Yeah," Villanelle breathed. "You okay?" Please let her be okay, Villanelle thought fervently.

Eve huffed dismissively. "Like you care."

Villanelle grinned. “Feeling a little rusty, Eve? Relax, you know what they say. It’s like riding a bicycle; once you've learned it, you don't forget."

Eve tensed further, visibly. "Spare me your little nuggets of wisdom, will you?"

Villanelle looked across her shoulder into the bedroom and saw Eve’s bed, covered in pristine white-and-gray check flannel and waiting. Eve caught and followed her glance and blushed again like a 17-year-old. Villanelle felt torn between laughter and disconcertment.

Looking at her under half-lowered lashes, Villanelle said, “If you're going to change your mind, then do it now, Eve. Later will be way too late. Once we're in that room, there'll be no going back."

"I'm not going to change my mind." 

Good, because sincere as Villanelle wanted to be, she was realistically aware of the pliable nature of her moral backbone or the lack of it. Villanelle would never take Eve by force, but she wasn't confident she could do what it took to convince Eve she was wrong if Eve changed her mind at this point. Moral considerations wouldn't get a foot in the door. Even as Villanelle had spoken her offer, the growing heat between her legs was issuing an official protest.

"Well?" Eve asked in a throaty whisper, touching her fingers to Villanelle’s chest through the cotton of her shirt. Villanelle smiled dangerously. She felt like a conqueror suddenly. Villanelle rose with her, then carefully hoisted Eve off the floor and into her arms, feeling Eve’s hand clench around her upper arm for balance as her feet left the floor. Villanelle was strong enough and Eve small enough that she could carry her gracefully, albeit maybe not entirely painlessly.

“What the hell do you think you're doing?" asked Eve, squirming like a snake and staring at her in astonishment more than affront. Eve wanted down, and she was making no secret of it. Villanelle swore and grabbed her tighter. Putting her down was defeat - unthinkable. Villanelle strode towards the bedroom, refusing to let Eve squirming from carrying her to bed like a spoil of war.

Eve laughed, but Villanelle could tell she was getting angry, " You should consult someone about your need to be in control."

"Oops," said Villanelle as she dropped Eve none too elegantly on the mattress.

The room was comfortably warm, and Villanelle pushed the duvet and the throw down on the floor. She was aware of Eve’s wary gaze on her, as Villanelle shrugged her jacket onto the floor. She unfastened both gun holsters and let them follow the jacket, and took time to take off her shoes, then the knife strap on her ankle, before standing by the bed and returning her gaze.

"You must be scared of something, Villanelle," Eve said with ironical bravado that struck Villanelle as somewhat forced, taking in her little arsenal on the floor, " Seems a bit much..."

Villanelle laughed. "Seems like you are stalling, Eve. Are you nervous?”

Well, maybe we both are, she thought. Eve seemed to have a harder time hiding it, though. Her hair was dark against the sheet, her eyes unnaturally luminous. The peaks of her breasts were tightening even as Villanelle looked at them, and as Eve noticed the direction her attention was taking, she blushed for the third time, her skin from her forehead down to her chest bursting into a bloom of wild roses. Villanelle smiled, almost staggered by that beauty, and Eve averted her gaze sharply.

In denial, Eve? Villanelle thought. She put her knee onto the mattress, lying down next to Eve and placing one thigh possessively over Eve’s legs. She leaned on her arm, and raised her right hand to Eve’s burning cheek, cupping it and turning her face back to meet her gaze again. Villanelle felt amazingly gentle. She could afford to be generous.

Eve's obligatory protest was rather feeble since she couldn't seem to find her voice, and Villanelle caressed her cheek before leaning in to kiss her.

Again, there was first this callow, frustrating passivity. Villanelle wondered whether it was inexperience that caused it or rather the fact that Eve was quite literally in bed with the enemy. Maybe both. She brushed her mouth over Eve’s, smiling encouragement. Then, stealthily, she moved in to test the perimeters of Eve’s defense. Villanelle traced the inside of Eve’s lower lip with the tip of her tongue, causing Eve to take a shallow, troubled breath and open her mouth against her. Villanelle felt the warm touch of Eve’s tongue on her, withdrawing enticingly after the first taste. Determined, Villanelle followed her tongue, sliding and exploring and coaxing Eve out to play again. Being patient with Eve felt good, like some luxurious indulgence. For a moment, Villanelle was brought back many years ago in time to a lazy, snowed-in Sunday, lying in a half-daze on the floor, trying to prolong the enjoyment of the sweets she had found. She’d slowly savored the liqueur-filled chocolates, waiting for the fiery explosion of sweetness at the center.

Experimentally, Villanelle let her hand slide from Eve’s cheek, down her throat and chest, her fingers dragging lightly over one nipple. Eve arched into her hand, moaning into her mouth. Fascinated by her sensitivity, Villanelle repeated the caress, this time lingering on the hard straining peak, softly stroking and manipulating it. Eve broke free from the kiss, drawing a gasping breath which she expelled in a long, low, plaintive sound. Her eyes closed tightly shut as Eve half-rose from the mattress, pushing herself into Villanelle’s hand. 

“Does that feel good?” Villanelle murmured, cupping the firm globe of Eve’s breast in her hand, thumbing the nipple lazily. Eve’s eyes slowly drifted open again, disoriented and dazed like from a dream. Villanelle met her gaze quietly for some seconds before dipping her head and biting the hard bud gently through her dress. Eve moaned, writhing. Villanelle knew she had to find a way to get that dress off her. She didn't want a quick, nervous fuck with Eve’s dress bunched around her waist. If she only got to have sex with Eve once in her life, she wanted it to be so right and good that no one was ever going to fuck her better.

Eve seemed distracted by the dress, too. She put her hands on Villanelle’s shoulders and pushed her away, but only to kneel on her knees and reach back for the zipper. Eve was nimble and could no doubt manage the operation herself, but there was no way Villanelle was going to let an opportunity to undress this woman pass her by. Villanelle knelt on her knees, too, moving so she was behind Eve. Seeing the pale, delicate nape of Eve’s neck distracted her, though. She kissed Eve there, and with a faint sound of encouragement, Eve bent her head, inviting further exploration. Villanelle licked like a cat down the side of her neck, and Eve moaned as her head rolled back again, resting against Villanelle’s chest while Villanelle’s hand closed over hers, helping to pull the zipper down to the small of her back.

Villanelle started easing the dress down over Eve’s shoulders and had just undone the clasp of her navy satin bra when Villanelle was hit by the added visual impact of the scar right below her shoulder. Remnants of their time in Rome. The exciting surprise of it shimmered through Villanelle like a heatwave and made her gasp for air.

"Eve..." Villanelle sighed, a short soft sound, and touched the scar carefully.

Eve stiffened and shifted to see her face. Her eyes fiercely guarded as Villanelle traced the delicate skin with her index finger.

"I’m ...," Villanelle began in half-whispered urgency.

"You're so full of shit," Eve said ungraciously. But her fever-bright gaze seemed to revisit some half-forgotten pain, like an old wound, a gash that had scored too deep ever to heal quite right.

"You've no right - " Eve began tightly, and moved away sharply, a panicked motion as if to get away, but Villanelle held on with lazy confidence. Villanelle kissed the back of Eve’s neck, kissed a warm whisper into her skin, "This isn't real, remember?"

Eve was unyielding in her arms, her breath betraying genuine fear for the first time since this unlikely scenario started unfolding. "This is real, all right," Eve whispered hotly. "Believe me, if I were dreaming, you wouldn't be playing the lead."

Villanelle’s mouth at Eve’s neck moved into a smile. "Eve, you're so cruel."

"Don't mess with my head," Eve hissed, a racking shiver going through her. "I know who you are."

"Good. And as long as you remember it," Villanelle whispered, "we should be fine."

Villanelle put both her hands to Eve’s lower back then, to distract her, applying warm pressure before slipping the black velvet over her hips. Soft hot skin over sharp curves.

Villanelle let her hands glide in a slow firm caress up to Eve’s waist, encircling it briefly before continuing up over her ribcage. Villanelle’s thumbs traced the undersides of her breasts, and Eve sighed, growing restless in front of her, turning her cheek to Villanelle’s shoulder and fighting to keep her breath even. Eve’s back arched in an involuntary attempt to invite a more intimate touch. Her hips made tentative circles, bringing her ass into fleeting contact with the heat between Villanelle’s legs. Villanelle groaned and sat down on her heels, pulling Eve firmly down into her lap. Eve pushed into her, her hands clutching convulsively at Villanelle’s hips. "Villanelle," Eve pleaded shakily.

"Say please, Eve," Villanelle teased her, her voice low and warm in Eve’s ear.

"Fuck you!"

Villanelle smiled. "It's only polite." A couple of fingers pushed her bra away, then made a detour up to a nipple and brushed it lightly before retreating again.

"Oh, God..." Eve moaned, arching her back in a vain attempt to recapture the touch, then spat out the word like something foul. "Please!"

Villanelle laughed and moved her hands the required three inches up, and the moan rose to a sigh of relief. Eve’s skin was hot; her nipples pushed hard and swollen against Villanelle’s palms. Eve arched forward into her touch, then desperately, her hands came up to her shoulders and clawed at the dress, tugging it down her arms to her elbows, along with her bra. Eve leaned back into the hollow of Villanelle’s neck, her mouth emitting a slow, steady whimper as Villanelle molded her lightly in her hands and tugged at her nipples. Eve was rocking softly in her lap, fuelled by a restlessness Villanelle couldn't seem to control, and Villanelle was rocking back, likewise unable to help herself. Suddenly, her hands had become erogenous zones. She thought she could feel Eve’s pleasure spreading in electric pulses into her palms, under her skin, drumming through her nerves and her blood.

"Ah... Eve..." Villanelle’s voice was slurred, husky with sensual wonder.

Villanelle bent down and put her lips and tongue to the base of Eve’s throat, licking and breathing evenly on the tender skin there, and Eve was squirming in her lap to turn around, her eyes stormy and desperate. Villanelle took hold of the hem of Eve’s dress, deftly easing it up and over her head along with her bra. And... Eve, oh Eve...

Villanelle’s mind went blank. "Eve, you're..."

Eve strove to look unaffected by Villanelle’s slack-jawed admiration, but she could tell by Eve’s small, self-conscious smirk that she liked it. And Eve deserved it. Her skin contrasted warmly with blazing eyes, berry-red lips, tousled hair, nipples flushed from her attention, and a dark chestnut tuft nestled in the v of her thighs, framed to perfection by a navy satin garter and nude stockings. No underwear.

Villanelle used her right hand to unfasten the clips that secured the stockings, then reached both hands around to the back of her garter belt, unhooking the fasteners there. "This is beautiful," Villanelle murmured. "It makes you look like a piece of erotic art. But that's not what I want. That's not what turns me on."

Villanelle threw the garter away, then tipped Eve over on her back without warning, netting a yelp of surprise. Eve watched in anticipation as Villanelle’s right hand eased onto her knee and slid slowly upwards and inwards. Eve inhaled sharply as Villanelle gently brushed her curls, but withdrew immediately and started to push down one of her stockings instead, dragging her fingertips in exploring patterns down the inside of Eve’s leg. Villanelle did the same with the other stocking, and moved down, nipping at her toes with a teasing growl before kissing her way up to her knee and beyond. Eve’s inner thighs were silky and trembling slightly with tension. As Villanelle approached her sex, Eve’s thighs parted reluctantly. Villanelle raised herself on her elbows and moved up, so her face was level with Eve’s. Villanelle contemplated the agitated rise and fall of Eve’s chest with satisfaction, clucking in sympathy.

"Remember to breathe, Eve."

Eve’s gaze flew to her in glaring outrage, and Villanelle’s eyes widened triumphantly. She stared hard at Eve, her mouth half-open on a small smile of sensual relish as she put her hand flat on Eve’s neck and drew it in a firm, deliberate sweep down over her breasts, her belly, to her sex. Villanelle dipped two fingers in between Eve’s folds, taking a slow, careful breath as she felt her wetness and Eve’s immediate, shaking response. Then Villanelle drew her hand back, retracing the possessive sweep over her torso, her wet fingers making a glistening track over Eve’s skin.  
  
"*This* is what I want," Villanelle told her. Then moved her hand up to Eve’s face and tapped the same two fingers lightly on her temple, indicating some mystery inside. "But *this*," Villanelle murmured, "this is what turns me on. This is what makes me wet."

Eve's face was a sight to behold, mesmerized, and terrorized as if she were contemplating an uncoiling rattlesnake. Villanelle's smile widened, and she hovered above Eve. "Now," Villanelle said, barely audibly, "I want you to kiss me, Eve."

Eve recoiled, but Villanelle caught her, pinning her down under her body. "Does it work better like this?”

Eve struggled for a few seconds, then stilled to a stony, demonstrative reserve. "A kiss is a gesture of affection," Eve pontificated as though Villanelle’s effrontery simultaneously bored and amazed her. Eve’s voice wasn't quite the flat dismissal Villanelle thought Eve strove for, though. A timbre of despair was sneaking in, and her gaze drifted guiltily to Villanelle’s parted lips as if Eve expected to be punished for it. "Why would I kiss you?" Eve inquired, and it sounded like she was trying to come up with a good reason.

"Why? You mean, besides the fact that you're itching to do it? You know you loved it when it was me kissing you." Villanelle smiled at her quick snort of protest and bent her face towards Eve, her mouth hovering just a soft breath away from Eve’s, just like she did on the bus.  
Maybe it’s the challenge in Villanelle’s eyes, or perhaps it’s the proximity, whatever the reason, just like she did on the bus, with the most outraged little whimper she had ever heard, Eve bridged the infinitesimal distance and moved her lips against Villanelle’s.

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are reading this, I'm hoping you sort of liked what you were reading, at least enough to stick till the end of this chapter, so thank you! :D This is the first time I've written anything, let alone fanfiction so please do excuse any errors, grammatical mistakes and general inexperience. Basically I've got very little plot and a whole lot of smut.  
> I would absolutely love any feedback even if you just want to scream at me about how terribly out of character I've written them. Thank you once again for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

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Having gotten that little taste, Eve couldn't hide her hunger. Villanelle withdrew slightly, experimentally, and Eve followed, her mouth open, moving into her with a small sound of supplication. Villanelle let her take the lead, and Eve's tongue flicked smooth inside her mouth, dipping, and diving and exploring. Villanelle let go of her arms, and Eve moved her hands up to cradle Villanelle's head. Her head sank back against the pillow, and Villanelle followed. 

Eve's kiss was an unexpected spell of sweetness. Their eyes slid shut in a temporary truce. Their tongues were dancing, Eve's leading, her following, sliding, smooth, wet, slow heat. It felt like sinking through miles and miles of dark, dangerous depths. Villanelle gave herself up to it, as entranced as Eve. Villanelle was acutely aware of the throbbing between her legs, in a heavy even pulse of want, pressed into the firm of Eve's thigh, but distanced, a pressure she could acknowledge and postpone.

Villanelle rolled, taking Eve with her, so they lay side by side, face to face, kissing. Villanelle moved her knee in between Eve's thighs, and even through the fabric of her jeans, Villanelle felt the heat of Eve's skin. Villanelle opened her eyes in slow, happy amazement. Eve was riding her thigh, undulating against her. She felt Eve's wetness seeping through the sturdy denim to her skin, and then the kiss broke up as Eve withdrew to come up for air, breaking the surface with a low shuddering intake of breath.

"You amaze me, Eve," Villanelle muttered, and Eve opened her eyes. Eve opened her mouth to speak, and from her look, it seemed she was trying for something incredibly insulting, but not a sound came out. Villanelle held her gaze lazily, and took her hand and led it gently to the heat between her legs.

Eve withdrew her hand immediately, with a look in her eyes that said she wasn't going to do Villanelle any favors. Villanelle shook her head. "What?" she asked on a note of exasperated indulgence.

"I said I'd let *you* fuck *me*," Eve hissed. "Not the other way around."

"And I said we'd do this my way," Villanelle countered, her patient smile wearing a bit thin. Villanelle moved her thigh once, slowly between Eve's legs, and Eve closed her eyes and slightly turned her head on the pillow. "Listen to me, Eve," Villanelle said, and now her voice was clear, cold, and level. "I won't let you pretend that this is about me forcing myself on you. I want you so bad, but if you don't start to acknowledge that there are two of us in this bed, it will cost me little to walk out of here. You can count on that."

Eve's face was flushed and defensive, her eyes round with surprise. Eve was doing a reality check, which was a good thing, because rhetoric aside, Villanelle would much rather stay than leave.

"Isn't it nice to feel wanted? Doesn’t it feel good to be with someone who sees how beautiful, how fucking hot you are? Here, have a look at the hard facts."

Villanelle cupped her chin, tilted her face down to see, and Eve took a quick soft breath as both their gazes traveled down to watch Villanelle sneak her hand inside her jeans and come back out glistening with her own wetness. Villanelle could feel her own wetness drip down her thighs under Eve's gaze, and as she noticed the little pink tip of Eve's tongue darting over her dry lips, Villanelle's arousal accelerated from a pleasant cruising speed into breakneck urgency in the space of two seconds. "This," Villanelle said with pleasant, though somewhat pained emphasis, "is the crotch of a woman about to ruin her favorite pair of jeans with wanting you, Eve."

Eve snorted at that, but her gaze was meditative as it strayed to Villanelle's face. "All right," Eve said at length. "Point taken."

Eve moved her hand to the fork of Villanelle's legs, staring flatly at her. Her hand closed on Villanelle's crotch, cupping over it, then rubbing gently. Villanelle lowered her lashes in sensual approval, fighting the urge to start rocking her hips. "That's good."

Eve didn't answer but began stroking her outside her jeans, firmer now, slow circles pressing with the flat of her hand. Villanelle cleared her throat. It felt so good. In fact, it was so good it was starting to hurt. Villanelle arched her hips a little, moving into her touch, then tapped a finger lightly on the zipper. "Mmm…Eve? Show a little mercy, will you? If not for me, then for my favorite pair of jeans."

Eve countered Villanelle's gaze, expressionless, and soon her zipper was being eased slowly, carefully down. The lingering brush of her hand making a soothing track in the wake of the zipper was so exquisite, Villanelle's head turned to the side, eyes falling shut as she made a sound deep in her throat.

Villanelle felt Eve drag a tentative finger across her clit, a bit firmer, ending with an experimental squeeze that drew another husky approval from her. Eve blew a light, hot breath on her clit, causing Villanelle to jerk abruptly. Then Eve pulled the edge of Villanelle's underwear down, freeing her to her inspection.

Eve was quiet so long it caused Villanelle to open her eyes, to see Eve leaning up on her elbow beside her, her hair hanging down to partly shade her face, her whole attention riveted between Villanelle's legs. Eve looked awed, and hungry.

"Isn't that the most beautiful pussy you've ever seen, Eve? I know you haven't seen many. In fact, I think this might be the only up close and personal view you've had, but trust me when I say, you can't get better than that." 

Eve looked up in amazement, cheeks on fire. "Your arrogance is boundless, isn't it? What makes you think I haven’t done this before?"

“You have? Seriously?”

“That’s for me to know and for you to find out.” Eve replied mysteriously and continued, “Maybe you should be feeling nervous in case I compare you to my previous lovers.”

"You mean Niko??," Villanelle said, laughing. But in the next moment, the laughter died out, and Villanelle's gaze froze as Eve cast her a vicious glance and bent towards the general area of Villanelle's pelvis, her lips parting and her tongue moving in for a taste.

"Fuck!" Villanelle's eyes slid shut at the first lap of her tongue. No way had Villanelle seen this coming. Not that she was complaining, mind. 

Villanelle's body stretched and arched, a slow unfurling of pleasure. She groaned and moved her hand to thread gently through Eve's hair, willing herself not to start riding Eve's mouth, not to push her head down harder. Villanelle brushed Eve's cheek with her fingers and murmured to her, voice husky and broken, "Eve, that feels so good-"

Villanelle could come from this, too soon. The mere sight of Eve, that lush berry tongue, sliding through her folds, and knowing it was Eve - incredibly, excitingly - Eve -. Villanelle's head reeled, and she said, "Eve... wait -."

As Eve raised her head, Villanelle's hands slid to her shoulders, then her arms, pulling her up to her. Eve's lips were glistening and red; her eyes dazed with surprised triumph. Villanelle got the impression Eve hadn't quite anticipated this success.

"See?" Villanelle murmured smugly. "It's more fun when there are two of us."

Eve cleared her voice, striving to appear offhand. "Fun for you, perhaps."

Villanelle grinned, her hand sliding down over Eve's belly. "Let's see if we can make it fun for you too."

Villanelle's fingers combed through the curls at the base of her belly, slid down to graze the upper swell of her thighs. Eve seized up with tension, a tremor starting in her hips and legs, and Villanelle laughed softly into her hair.

"Fuck you," Eve whispered. "Don't play with me."

Villanelle let her fingers trace lightly away from her sex, concentrating on stroking her inner thighs, and Eve spread her legs wider, gasping. Villanelle moved upwards again but lingered a chaste inch from her sex, her caress as light as a breath. 

"Has it been long since anyone made you come, Eve?"

Eve gasped as Villanelle moved her fingers a bit away again, wild-eyed, pleading now, "Yes, God, please, it has been so long -."

Villanelle held her imploring gaze for a few seconds before dipping her head to Eve's breasts. Villanelle took a nipple in her mouth, stroked her tongue slowly over it before scraping it gently with her teeth. Eve's fingers threaded into Villanelle's hair, drawing her close as Eve writhed under her, her hips lifting instinctively towards her to get into closer contact with Villanelle's hand. Villanelle finally obliged by stroking her lightly, repeatedly over her outer folds, still avoiding any deeper touch.

"Villanelle... I'm going to kill you," Eve moaned, but she seemed incapacitated, so Villanelle wasn't too worried.

"That would be a shame," Villanelle murmured, raising herself again so Eve could look into her eyes, "because then you'd be missing out on this..." Villanelle's fingers slipped easily between her folds, slid with predatory stealth onto her clit, and started a slick, continuous stroking.

"Oh my... God -" Eve half-rose towards her, supporting herself on her elbows, tense as a coiled steel wire. Her eyes locked with Villanelle's in amazement. The dilation of her pupils near eclipsed the intense color of the irises.

Villanelle's amusement had slipped away, replaced by unsmiling purpose. Eve was beautiful, her face contorted and vulnerable to the point where it felt like an intrusion to look at her, and still she was unable to look away.

"You are so beautiful," Villanelle murmured, speeding up her two fingers over Eve's clit as she felt a regular light pulsing begin there. Eve's eyes fell shut, and she started shuddering, but it took time. Eve seemed caught in an agony of tension, holding back on the brink like a panicked mare rearing up at the edge of a gorge. Villanelle fought for control over her voice as she bent low, breathing a searing kiss on Eve's open mouth, and slid a finger deep inside of her. "Come for me, Eve."

Eve's breath hitched on a strangled cry, then released on a wild, deep rush, as she was overtaken by the orgasm, rendered incoherent by pleasure, gasped-out syllables leaving her lips. "Oh... so... good..." Her thighs clenched around Villanelle's hand, and Eve fell back on the mattress, and still, her climax went on, a spring flood of heat-releasing through her body in swelling waves Villanelle could actually see. Villanelle didn't think she'd ever seen a woman come that long and hard before, and it filled her with incandescent joy that it was her doing this to Eve... *Eve* for fuck's sake.

She kissed Eve tenderly on the mouth and let her hand slide away from her sex. Eve was breathing hard; her eyes closed as she tried to get her bearings. Sluggishly, her lids lifted, revealing eyes swimming in tears. And now Villanelle panicked. Oh shit...did she hurt Eve? Maybe she had lost control and ended being a little too rough?

Eve laughed explosively through her nose, catching Villanelle's expression. "Relax, It's nothing. I was just overwhelmed; that's all."

"Overwhelmed? *You* were overwhelmed, Eve? That orgasm almost made *me* cry... with envy," Villanelle said, grinning with relief.

“My turn now,” Eve whispered as her hands slid up under the hem of Villanelle's shirt, a reluctant exploration as if she wouldn't quite admit her need to touch Villanelle. Eve wouldn't meet Villanelle's eyes, and Villanelle closed her own. Her palms flattened out over Villanelle's stomach, stroked up over the barely visible scar on her stomach, then moved up, her fingertips brushing over Villanelle's nipples. She didn't know if that was deliberate or not, but a low moan caught in her throat, and Villanelle raised heavy eyelids to search Eve's face because it felt good. All of it, so good. Villanelle guessed Eve thought so too because her breathing had slowed and was shallow and almost inaudible, trancelike. Eve glanced up now at the sound she'd made, and there was a question in her eyes. She withdrew her hands from Villanelle's torso and gripped the hem of Villanelle's shirt and eased it up her body.

Eve lowered her head and placed a small kiss at the crook of Villanelle's inner thigh, just where her leg met her torso. And then another, and another, letting her lips travel down until she reached the apex above Villanelle's sex. Just over the place where Villanelle's clit lay hidden and waiting, Eve pressed her lips, letting the barest tip of her tongue sneak past her lips.

Villanelle moaned and shifted her hips, just the slightest under Eve's lips. And then Eve moved lower. She dipped her head and sought out Villanelle's clit with her tongue.  
She made slow, tortuously slow circles on the sensitive skin surrounding Villanelle's clit.

Eve touched the tip of her tongue to the top of her swollen bundle of nerves, and Villanelle thrust her hips up into her, seeking out more contact. Eve laid the flat of her tongue against Villanelle's warm, hot flesh. Just laid her tongue in the space between Villanelle's lips, against her throbbing clit. And waited.  
Until Villanelle moved her body again and began thrusting her hips against Eve's warm, wet tongue. Her hands moved down to tangle in Eve's hair, settle at the base of her head.

"Fuck, Eve," Villanelle said, her voice thick with arousal. Villanelle's hand tightened in Eve's hair and pulled.

Eve moaned into her soaked flesh, her tongue circling Villanelle's entrance, chasing the taste of her arousal. Until she was thrusting the firm muscle of her tongue deep, deep into Villanelle.

Eve's thumb was busy against Villanelle's clit, working in tight, unyielding circles around the sensitive nub. And then, every once in a while, Eve swiped the pad of her thumb against Villanelle's clit, determinedly. Villanelle arched her back, pushing her feet into the mattress and thrusting against Eve's mouth.

Villanelle was past the point of sense, her body and mind lost to the race towards her orgasm, the orgasm Eve was fast pushing her toward. Now all she could hear over the wet sound of Eve's tongue and the brush of Eve's hair against her thighs were her own almost animal panting, her high cries, and shuddering breaths.

And then, finally, Villanelle cried out as she lost control, as she thrust mindlessly against Eve's mouth, Eve's tongue. And Eve lapped it up, drank from her.

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What to do afterward was not immediately apparent to her, although Villanelle was fairly certain that loving after play and cooing pillow-talk wasn't on the menu. After the first half-minute of feeling boneless and regaining breath and trying to locate her motivation to move, Villanelle rolled over onto her side, leaving Eve exposed. Eve shivered and sat up, curling into herself, for warmth or privacy, her back to her. Villanelle didn't know what to expect next.

She missed the comfort of her modern apartment, the measure of control Villanelle felt in the complex politics there.

Eve was shivering still. Hell, Eve looked so cold, it made her feel cold too, just to watch her. Villanelle's right hand twitched with the instinct to stroke down her back, to warm her any way she could, but she had a feeling that Eve would not appreciate that. She got up instead, slowly, and reached down on the floor for the duvet.

"Here, Eve." Villanelle put one knee on the mattress, draped the duvet around her, looking doubtfully at her lowered head. Eve accepted the gesture without acknowledging her, clutching the duvet together in front of her. Eve looked a bit zoned out, sitting with her arms around her knees and her face half-hidden in her arms.

"Are you all right?" Villanelle finally asked.

"I can't be, can I?" Eve retorted with an immediate sting to her voice.

"You mean, screwing me?" Villanelle grinned. "That was just your animal instinct taking over, Eve. It doesn't reflect on your mental faculties." 

Eve peered up at her over the top of her knees. Villanelle grabbed her jeans from the end of the bed and got up on her feet. "Well, Eve, I assume you got what you wanted. Don't let me outstay my welcome."

An indignant toss of her head sent Eve's hair dancing. Villanelle was relieved to see the spark of anger in her eyes.

Villanelle picked her jacket up from the floor and caught a glimpse of Eve’s face as she stood up. What Villanelle saw there made her raise herself slowly, carefully wiping her face of all expression as she turned to watch Eve.

"Something on your mind, Eve?"

Eve shrugged, "No." 

The word was a single icicle hanging between them, and yet that shrug was so pathetic in its defiant nonchalance, it negated her denial.

Villanelle smiled, glancing down for a moment. Well, wasn't this the night for surprises?

She flung her clothes into a chair and walked over to Eve, kneeling by the bed.

Eve took a quick, careful breath, looking down at her. She looked bewitched as Villanelle reached up to where her hand clutched the duvet and gently pulled Eve's hand back to her mouth. Villanelle kissed her palm.

"I'll make it easy for you again, Eve," Villanelle murmured against her palm, then her wrist, looking up at her. "You won't have to ask me to stay."

Villanelle turned her hand around, pressing her lips against the back of her hand in amused, tender deference, then rose and put her knee on the bed, and Eve was gasping, compliant, as Villanelle lay back with her and draped the duvet over them. Villanelle left her some personal space, lying close to her but not touching, tracing the curving line from her shoulder down to her waist with confidence, and Eve turned to face her. Her eyes were full of sorrow and longing. But her voice, as Eve spoke, was all Eve, all business.

"I'll leave for work tomorrow, and I'll expect you to be gone by the time I return. And... that's it, Villanelle. I -"

Villanelle put her finger across Eve's lips to stifle the words. Yes, she knew, she knew from that sadness, that determination in her eyes, but Villanelle didn't want the words between them. It would be neither metaphor nor hyperbole this time. "Sshhh... I know, Eve." Villanelle's finger slid to her cheek, traced her hairline around her ear, and down to her neck.

Eve said with a strange calm: "I know I'm supposed to hate you. But..."

Villanelle shook her head slowly. "You are allowed to hate me, Eve."

"It's just - you're so... you've been so..." Eve laughed out in bitter disbelief at herself but braved the mild question in Villanelle's eyes. "I never thought I'd use the word 'sweet' to describe you."

Again Villanelle shook her head, smiling this time. "Eve, do you think it was out of sweetness that I fucked you? Don't give me more credit than I deserve."

"Don't push it," Eve replied caustically.

Villanelle sighed, and her hand left Eve's face and slid down to her shoulder, then her arm. "Come here."

Villanelle drew her in, cradling her close to her heart, accepting her sorrow, her hatred, and her desire, as gifts of honesty after all.

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to ALL who left kudos and words of encouragement. You have no idea how much it means to me!! It truly brightens my day <3 Thank you, as always, for taking the time to read!  
> P.S. I’m aware that Eve seems a little too experienced while doing certain things. My reasoning for that is Eve has had Sappho run through her ever since she met Villanelle and might have done some research of her own ;) so, just go with it :D


	3. Chapter 3

Later, Villanelle got up, pulled on her jeans, went into the kitchen, and made that omelet. She opened the fridge to find something to drink with the food.

"Strawberries and champagne?" Villanelle walked over to the bedroom door and looked at Eve. She was lying in bed, clutching the duvet around her with a faraway gaze, and started as Villanelle challenged her with mock reproach. "Eve, you have strawberries and champagne in your fridge, and you let me slave over a hot stove?"

Eve's face turned beetroot red, and Villanelle felt her own face grow heated in immediate embarrassment. Eve was probably going to share it with whoever she had planned to romance tonight, whoever she had worn that dress for. Having seen the delicacies made Villanelle feel awkward and needlessly angry.

When Eve didn't respond, Villanelle grabbed two cans of diet coke from the shelf in the fridge door and closed it. When she turned, she was surprised to find Eve had followed her to the kitchen.

Eve had thrown on a T-shirt, ridiculously much too big for her, and looked strangely imploring, like a little girl trying to comfort a grown-up.  
"We can have the champagne and strawberries - let me help you carry some of it."

Did she look so piteous that Eve thought she needed to be consoled?  
"No, forget about that," Villanelle said gruffly. "I realize this isn't... exactly how you intended it."

Eve balanced on one foot, rubbing the other one distractedly over her ankle. She looked about nine years old. "You know what, I've never had champagne and strawberries in bed before...and I want to share it with you” - a burst of sudden, fragile laughter. "Let me..." Eve moved past her, opened the fridge door again, and took out the bowl of strawberries and the bottle of champagne, handing her the latter.

Villanelle brought the bottle and the plate with the omelet into bed while Eve found two plastic cups and brought the berries. Villanelle placed the plate on the floor by the bed and began easing the cork out of the bottle, holding it outside the edge of the bed.

The sound of the cork popping free was disconcertingly similar to a gunshot. The association wasn't lost on Eve, who jumped and looked away in sudden embarrassment. Villanelle felt herself blushing as she filled the cups. How damned appropriate. How fucking symbolic.

Villanelle gave her one cup, and raised her own, determined to distract Eve. "To this night," Villanelle murmured, in the deepest, softest register of her voice.

Eve looked at her and took her cup.

Villanelle took a sip from her cup, eyeing Eve under her lashes, then licked the remaining drops off her lower lip slowly, precisely and suggestively.

Eve's face softened into reluctant amusement. "God, you're so smooth."

Villanelle sipped at her glass with a little smirk. "I aim to please."

Eve snorted. "As the assassin said to her woman."

Villanelle choked on the champagne, and studied Eve askance, trying simultaneously to regain her breathing ability and figure out Eve's mood from her deadpan expression. Eve's eyes laughed at her, cool under lazy lids. "Gotcha."

"Eve, that's so below the belt," Villanelle gasped, fighting the indignity of talking with a fizzy drink up her nose.

"Mhm. Those are the regions we're concentrating on tonight," Eve remarked, taking a dainty sip from her cup.

Villanelle selected the biggest strawberry she could find and popped it into Eve's mouth. "Shut up, Eve."

Caught by surprise, Eve bit down on the berry, and swallowed again and again, with small, concerned sounds as the juice flowed down her throat, spilled transparent pink over her lips, trickled from the corner of her mouth down her chin. Villanelle took Eve's cup from her, leaned in and lapped the juice from her chin with her tongue. She found Eve's mouth, licked the juice off her lips, heard her swallow berry mush and start to speak, and slid her tongue into Eve's mouth. Eve's tongue was strawberry sweet licking over her own, a warm sunny taste of summer, and Eve was starting to giggle, she was actually laughing -.

Before Villanelle even knew what she was doing, she was making Eve come again, just because she wanted to look at Eve's lovely face when she did - sliding her hand in between Eve's legs, finding her getting wet, and starting to stimulate her, and Eve was still giggling, but her giggles turned into sighs and moans by and by. Villanelle used the other hand to pull the T-shirt up and ease it over her head, and Eve arched her back and raised her arms to help her. Eve stayed there half reclining against the pillows with her arms thrown back in a pose of relaxed abandon, mewling softly as Villanelle took her up on her silent invitation and brought her free hand to Eve's breasts.

Villanelle wasn't subtle or teasing this time. She was single-minded and gentle and thorough. Villanelle's fingers danced a dance they knew to perfection; she didn't even have to think about it, just watch Eve become short of breath, and her mouth grow tumescent and ripe like the strawberries. Her skin suffuse with warmth like from high summer sun and her eyes... In a better world, Villanelle could have spent a lifetime just watching Eve's eyes as their expression grew from languid appreciation into plaintive desire, into grasping, spiraling loss of control.

Eve came gradually undone under Villanelle's unhurried, even movements, the quiet determination of Villanelle's gaze, her mouth spilling murmurs onto her lips. With a desolate little cry of concession, Eve raised her thighs to clasp around Villanelle's hips at last and rocked with her as the sweet, hot ride escalated, making long low moaning sounds that made Villanelle's eyes glow under lowered lashes.

As the tension grew, Eve withdrew into the sensations of pleasure, and her eyes closed to her, hiding. Villanelle could understand her need to do that, but it was the one thing she wouldn't allow.

"Open your eyes, Eve." Villanelle's murmur slid like raw silk against her soft cheek and her forehead, designed to tempt. Villanelle detected a flicker of movement under her lids, but Eve ignored her request. Villanelle was too far gone for subtle sweet talk at this point, so she withdrew her hand. "Eve, open your eyes."

This time, Eve obeyed, somewhat reproachful. It was the gaze of a queen throwing down her weapons before her, utterly proud in defeat. Villanelle grew quiet, feeling almost cleansed by tenderness for a moment.

There was a part of her, as a lover - some primarily Russian part - that craved the rush of possession, the need to claim, conquer, and leave a mark. It was far from the sophisticated, strictly directed power play of bondage and domination games; Villanelle had no patience for that. Villanelle didn't want that carefully negotiated submission. Villanelle didn't want easy. She wanted the real thing - the initial challenge, the thrill of the chase, the final coup de grace. It made the last sweet moments that much better.

Eve had been Villanelle's match, a worthy mate. She didn't want to break Eve. She even doubted that she could. Villanelle smiled in surprise and whispered sweetly: "I surrender."

She'd wanted Eve to understand. It was only at her uncomprehending stare that Villanelle realized she'd spoken the words in Russian. But then, Villanelle was bringing her hand back to help Eve over the edge, and a warm wave was flooding her gaze, pulling her in, drowning her. Then Eve was groaning and coming around her hand, her movements heavy and deep and uncontrolled before all her tension was smoothed out in intense, rapturous relief, and she exclaimed a drawn-out, wordless, sweet moan.

"Ah, Villanelle -"...Eve breathed that name like a plea into her fevered skin, while Eve clutched out and clasped her tight, as if Eve could save her; as if Villanelle could save her.

Some fucks were saturated with the scent of skin, with the feel and taste and warmth of it, with whispered questions, with sighs and discoveries. She'd had some of those, but it had been years ago, in another lifetime. She'd never have expected it to happen with Eve. But then, Villanelle wouldn't have expected anything to happen with her and Eve.

She was lost in her thoughts when Eve rolled over on her side, reaching out for the zipper in her jeans, and Villanelle was faintly surprised even to discover that she was wet; she had been so focused on Eve that her own desire caught her unaware. Villanelle curled her fingers around Eve's, stopping her. "No, wait, Eve."

"Why not?" Eve murmured, questioning her with her eyes.

"Because - this time, I took pleasure in your pleasure."

Eve pulled her hand free from Villanelle's gentle grasp, stroked her hip. "I want to," Eve said.

"Later. Don't worry; I'm not finished with you yet." Villanelle turned over on her side too, pulling her close. Eve looked at Villanelle's crotch, then at her face, twice.

The more Villanelle grinned, the more serious Eve grew. "I don't get it."

Villanelle laughed then, stroking her back and leaning over to kiss her briefly. "Why, Eve? I just want to enjoy my horniness for a while, what's so hard to get?"

Eve shook her head and then laughed too. It was an unsure sound, a slender chain of happiness. "I don't get it."

"You don't have to," Villanelle said, raising her cup in a toast and handed Eve her cup, "You win first prize, Eve."

Eve accepted the cup, hesitantly, "What for, though?"

Villanelle's fingers traced over her cheek. "Most good-looking orgasm of the year."

Eve looked so startled and genuinely modest, that Villanelle laughed again. She studied Eve’s blushing face, her eyes following the track of her fingers, making a note of the dappled pattern of freckles on Eve's skin. Distracted, Villanelle put away her cup again, and let her fingertips trace Eve's cheekbone.

"I love this. "

Eve was disoriented for a moment before making the connection, grimacing. "Oh, my freckles, they're awful."

"They're not awful," Villanelle protested. "How can you even say the words' freckles' and 'awful' in the same sentence? They're lovely. Like stars on your skin."

Her eyes turned to Villanelle, late winter lakes where the ice was just breaking. "So, the assassin is waxing lyrical about freckles now."

Villanelle returned her gaze, eyes smiling quietly. "It's my night off."

Eve shook her head with a small smile, sitting up and studying her as Villanelle lay before her, propped on her elbow. Eve's fingers touched Villanelle's shoulder, circled around her nipples, and her hard stomach. She leaned over and gently kissed Villanelle between her breasts, running her tongue across the mole she found there. She looked up at Villanelle and smiled. There was a melancholy in Eve's smile, something that vaguely made her wary even as Eve's touch excited her. "You're beautiful, you know. A beautiful wild beast, Villanelle. That's what you are."

Villanelle looked at her warily, strangely chilled, now, where her fingers touched her, wondering if this train of thought could come to any good.

"So beautiful that it makes me forget. Like seeing a leopard or a tiger and wishing one could pet it."

The see-saw of enmity and need had tipped again, and Villanelle didn't know if there was anything other than sexual manipulation that could restore the precarious balance. But Villanelle was compelled to try, and let out her breath in a harsh sigh. "Just... just try to keep this night separate, Eve. Disconnected from what took place before, or what will happen later."

Villanelle reached out, pried the ice-cold drink out of Eve's hand, placed it on the bed stand, then warmed Eve's hand in her own. "You don't need to keep flogging yourself over the fact that you had sex with me."

"Oh, so we should keep quiet about your transgressions, and it's all for the best," Eve said bitterly.

"Maybe it is, Eve. Do you really believe it's me you're trying to punish?"

A few tears spilled from her eyes. Eve looked bruised, not quite whole. Villanelle moved in cautiously, held her close, but loosely as if Eve might shatter at the wrong touch.

"Tell me," Villanelle said after a while, "if you want me to go."

Her face was hot against Villanelle's shoulder, her skin wet with tears. "No, don't go. Not yet. Don't go."

Discovering Eve was like traversing disintegrating ice sheets. Losing foothold on sudden slippery slides of tenderness, stumbling, heart lurching, before opening voids of pain.

***************************

They finished the food in fairly amenable silence. Eve had patched herself together, now, and was staring at Villanelle, her brow knotting in frank fascination. "I didn't know you were such a good cook."

"Thank you, Eve. One of the few pleasures of being alone your whole life is you learn to turn an omelet into a luxurious gourmet meal, ” Villanelle winked and then changed the subject. "Speaking about the pleasures of life, exactly how little have you been up to in the last decade?"

Eve looked taken aback, but retorted coolly, "None of your damn business."

"Hey, *you* brought it up," Villanelle said with an innocent smile. As Eve looked at her without understanding, Villanelle murmured, "I think the exact words were 'God, please, it's been so long.' If I recall correctly?"

Eve flushed pink. "Okay, so it's been a while."

"Well, good things come to those who wait, as they say. As I recall, you also used the word 'overwhelmed' at some point."

Eve scowled. "Would you please stop quoting myself back at me? I wasn't quite myself when I said that. I was..."

"Overwhelmed?" Villanelle suggested, grinning.

"I was experiencing a temporary impairment of my faculties due to sexual excitement," Eve replied with some dignity.

"Well then, I'm glad I could sexually excite you, Eve." Villanelle considered for a moment, then continued: "What about Niko, though? I doubt that moustache led itself to any pleasurable activities?"

An uneasy shadow of regret flickered over Eve's face. "It's none of your business." She glanced down before focusing on Villanelle again.

Seeing that look, warning bells went tinging in Villanelle's mind. Yet fatally, curiosity got the better of her. They'd finished the food, and Villanelle put the plate on the floor next to the bed. "If Niko..."

"I don't want to speak about Niko," Eve said. "Not with you."

Villanelle laughed. "Eve, how many times has Niko sexually and emotionally frustrated you because he never understood what his wife wants? Or should I say soon to be ex-wife?"

"Don't you dare speak about him like that," Eve said with an immediate sharp, cold note in her voice. "I haven't -." Eve looked down, rephrased. "Let's say, for argument's sake, that my relationship with Niko sometimes left me frustrated. But he did not deserve any of the chaos you've brought into his life, my life. Let's try to retain some sense of perspective here, shall we?"

The disdain in Eve's tone numbed her for a second. Like a shaft of brilliant, northern noon light, it mercilessly illuminated the comfortable twilight zone they had forged with their need, as the flimsy construction it indeed was. Villanelle could deal with hatred, but that scorn stung in some naked, exposed sense of pride that had always been her Achilles' heel.

Villanelle shook her head, "All I can say, Eve, is that I feel sorry for him. And for you."

Eve was studying her sharply. "I know this much. Niko is a good, decent man who loved me despite everything I put him through. You, of all people, have no right to talk about him like that.”

It took some seconds for her words to sink in and cut to the marrow of Villanelle's already wounded pride. With the impact of a whiplash, something snapped in her, a string that had been pulled dangerously taut over many years. Villanelle spun around, her hand on Eve's shoulder, pushing her hard up against the pillows supporting her. "Don't you dare - don't you fucking dare" - she leaned over Eve, eyes flashing, teeth bared in fury.

Eve scrambled to get up, but Villanelle pinned her down, trapping her legs under her thigh. Eve gasped and laughed, disbelief mingling with satisfaction in her eyes, her eyes hard, and honest, taunting her: "Touched on a sore spot, Villanelle?"

Villanelle's heart was pounding. Rage, pride, excitement moved through her mind like shivery patterns of light and shade. Villanelle rocked her groin once, suggestively into Eve's hip, then brought her hand to Eve's sex, slipping two fingers barely inside her with dispassionate intimacy. "Eve, the only sore spot in this bed is right here."

She'd jerked at Villanelle's touch, the satisfied smirk replaced by an expression of absolute surprise. Without warning, Villanelle slid a finger deep inside her, and Eve gasped and shuddered. Villanelle dragged her finger almost out, then inserted two more fingers and pushed them all slowly in again, pressing upward firmly. Eve made a thin, suppressed sound. Villanelle looked up to her face and saw her biting her lip for control. Her eyes locked with Villanelle's, and she saw that Eve was angry, maybe even a little scared, but above all excited.

"Too bad Niko is too morally superior to do this to you, Eve," Villanelle commented, fucking her with hard, relentless thrusts of her fingers.

Eve wet her dry lips. "Screw *you*, Villanelle."

"Mm, no, Eve, I think the shoe is on the other foot." Villanelle clamped her thumb down on Eve's clit. "You like that, Eve?"

Eve closed her eyes, taking a harsh breath. "Oh, God."

Villanelle moved her fingers inside Eve, curving them sharply as Eve arched her back, hands clawing at the sheets for support.

"You *like* that Eve?"

"Go to... ahh!" Eve moaned as Villanelle moved down between her legs, taking away the bruising force of her thumb and soothing her clit with a slow lap of her tongue.

As Villanelle swirled her tongue gently over Eve, Villanelle could feel her warm into liquid pliancy. Eve moaned, and Villanelle looked up to see her head turn against the pillow, lips parted in anticipation of pleasure.

Villanelle set her mind and her mouth to the task of getting her to the brink of orgasm, fucking Eve gently with her fingers while she licked at her delicately, methodically, like a cat cleaning its bowl. The clean tartness of Eve’s arousal flowing onto Villanelle's tongue and making her want to linger after all. But Eve was already seizing up in expectant tension, crouching for that quantum leap into weightless space. Villanelle let her feel the first, preliminary spasms before pulling back and leaving her in limbo.

"No!" The exclamation was a cry of such disappointment Villanelle could only silently congratulate herself as she rose to contemplate Eve. Villanelle took one of Eve's hands in her hands and kissed her fingers lightly before placing it over her sex.

Villanelle stood up and moved away from Eve to sit in the chair. Her eyes widened as Villanelle proceeded to take off her jeans. The sound of the zipper being pulled down seemed very loud in the charged silence between them. By contrast, Villanelle's voice as she spread her legs and started touching herself was quiet, the silky hiss of a snake.

"I know you want this, Eve."

Eve swallowed hard, half-gaping, her gaze fastening in helpless fascination on Villanelle's fingers moving in slow, deliberate strokes.

"This is good," Villanelle murmured. "But it was so much better being inside you, Eve. So soft, so hot and tight. So perfect. You felt it too, I know. So much better than your fingers, those poor tiny fingers of yours..."

Eve whispered without looking away, "You're sick." But a slow lava smolder was insinuating itself into her eyes, viscous molten heat, and Villanelle smiled in near-compassion.

Villanelle stopped stroking herself and sat down on the edge of the bed, splaying out her hand over Eve's stomach. Eve moaned at Villanelle's touch, arched the small of her back slightly off the mattress. Her soft skin was unbelievably hot, and her gaze fixed on Villanelle in a kind of voluptuous lethargy like Eve knew doom was at hand and couldn't bring herself to care.

Villanelle's fingertips made slow, light circles around her navel. She lowered her voice even more, to a hushed almost-whisper. No need to shout; Villanelle had her rapt attention. Villanelle got the impression Eve would have been able to read her lips.

"This time, I want to fuck you hard, Eve. So hard, you scream. This time I want you to really feel it. I want you to wake up tomorrow and know the reason you can barely walk is because I fucked you, and you'll think back on it, and you'll still want me, Eve. You'll want it all over again because it's going to be so good. But I think you know that. I can see in your face that you know it. Don't you, Eve?"

Now Eve couldn't speak. Villanelle moved her hand down until it covered Eve's, brushed her thumb gently through the soft curls under her fingers, pressed down just firmly enough to encounter hot pooling wetness. Eve tensed with a small cry, and Villanelle maintained the slight, unmoving pressure and said in a silken murmur, "I need to know what you want, Eve."

Eve was vibrating like a violin string under the bow, her breath catching, "I want..." Eve closed her eyes briefly but opened them again. Villanelle could see the conflict in her face. There was enough remaining pride in her that her body's betrayal smarted. "You," Eve whispered, "Inside me."

Immediately Villanelle was at her side, drawing her in, so Eve lay spooned against her, back against Villanelle's front. Villanelle took Eve's hand again and dipped it between Eve's legs. Her breath hitched, and her pelvis jerked, but her hand remained still under Villanelle's.

"Just can't do it, can you?" Villanelle bent down to kiss the back of her neck, and started moving Eve's fingers with her own, whispering into her ear, "You are so fucking wet, Eve. "

Eve's fingers flexed under Villanelle's as she yielded, the foretaste of orgasm honey-sticky on her voice. "Oh my God -"

"Say my name, Eve."

Eve moaned into the pillow, "Villanelle…"

Villanelle didn't wait for her to finish, but she raised her upper thigh slightly with her hand and moved down to fuse her mouth to the heat between Eve's legs.  
Villanelle bore down on her, so Eve was pushed onto her stomach, with one thigh drawn up and her face half-hidden in the pillow. Eve made a wild, fierce sound and raised herself on her elbows. Her back bucked, and her head bent down like a waking cat going into a stretch.

Villanelle withdrew abruptly and thrust in two fingers, and Eve made a startled sound in her throat. She leaned on one elbow, using her other hand to keep Eve's drawn-up thigh in place against the mattress. Villanelle moved her fingers in and out of Eve, watching Eve's pale back shake with the impact of her thrusts. The grip of Villanelle's hand on her thigh would leave bruises for tomorrow. Villanelle was in control.

"I love doing this, Eve. I love making love to you."

"Is that what it is to you?" Eve asked tartly, gasping as Villanelle resumed her thrusting. Villanelle let go of her thigh, smoothing it down to a relaxed position, and her hand moved up and found her breast. Villanelle stroked the nipple absent-mindedly, fucking her slowly, adding another finger. Villanelle felt Eve spread her legs wider to accommodate her. "Yeah, Eve, I guess it is," Villanelle whispered.

"Keep... talking," Eve insisted.

"I love..." Villanelle cast desperately about the room looking for inspiration, "That dress, Eve. The dress you wore. Such a perfect black. The most beautiful black." Villanelle was gradually relaxing, some rigid hurt loosening its vice-grip on her body and mind. Villanelle dragged her hand down Eve's side and inched it under her pelvis, seeking out her clit. Eve shuddered and moaned into the pillow as she came, and Villanelle spread her fingers out to cup her mound, moving her hand in gentle circles. "Better, Eve?" Villanelle whispered.

"Yeah, better," Eve crooned.

Afterward, Villanelle lay folded over her like a fallen leaf, limp and weak and shaken. Eve turned slowly around to face her, moaning softly as Villanelle slipped her fingers out of her, and Eve traced the humiliating trail of sorrow on Villanelle's face with her cold fingers and took the last of Villanelle's anger away.

*********************

Villanelle didn't think she had slept. They lay nestled under the duvet, Eve with her cheek upon Villanelle's chest, and her arm flung across Villanelle's body. Villanelle didn't think Eve had slept either. An immense weariness, uncomfortably mixed with something closely related to fear, had pulled her close to an almost-dream for a while, but she woke with a start before she had truly fallen asleep, making Eve look up at her in the light dusk of the room. Villanelle saw her own emotions reflected in Eve's face. It didn't make her feel better.

It was an impetuous thought, but for a second, Villanelle contemplated it for the sheer weirdness of it, being loved by Eve, by that intelligent integrity. It was frightening.

She went up to get Eve a drink of water - Eve had said, with a wry little smile, that her throat was parched - and glanced at the clock on the wall. It showed 4:15. How many more hours in this sanctuary, Villanelle wondered. Two, three at most?

Villanelle drank some water too. The liquid trickled clear and cold down her naked chest. She drew cool, wet hands over her face and through her hair. For some reason, Villanelle hesitated to go in there to her again.

If her clothes had been in the living-room, she'd have dressed and left right then.

But Villanelle shook off her unease and brought her the glass of water, sat at the edge of the bed, and watched Eve drink it greedily. Eve spilled some on her chest too, and Villanelle couldn't resist bending her head to lick the drops of water off her breasts. But when she zoned in on a nipple, almost on autopilot, Eve protested mildly.

"Villanelle... I don't know what you have in mind, but I'm a bit sore." After a second's pause, Eve added with relative lack of rancor, "As I understand was your intention."

"Not my fault, you are very distracting," Villanelle murmured, kissing her nipple lightly before drawing back.

Eve put her glass on the nightstand, brushing the drops of water off herself, and then, distractedly, off Villanelle's chest.

Villanelle got to her feet and walked over to her window, looking down on the deserted street that shone blackly. A thaw was coming in, the white trimmings on buildings and cars melting and dripping.

Eve pushed off the bed with a small wince, grabbing the cotton throw from the floor, and walked over to her at the window. Villanelle put her arms around Eve, surprised. Eve stood on tiptoe and draped the throw around them against the chill. They swayed a little, rocking gradually back and forth, soothingly.

"Can I call you Oksana?" Eve asked softly.

Villanelle hesitated for a while before responding, "Yes.".

"Oksana…" Her cool contralto spoke the word as if tasting something foreign, some pungent exotic spice.

"I don't like anyone calling me that," Villanelle said, a quiet smile forming on her lips. "But it's different with you." Somehow it was comfortable talking to her like this, not looking, just their warm skin touching and their voices immaterially tender in the dark room, careful, now, not to hurt.

Eve gave her a spontaneous, wary smile, startling her. "You're such a contradiction in terms, Oksana. Danger, sweetness, chaos."

The throw slid down on the floor as her small hands ran flat and yielding through the expanse of Villanelle's shoulders, up to her neck and into her hair. Eve traced Villanelle's unmoving body as if it were a map that could tell her of secret snowed-over paths to her mind. Tilting her head back, Eve searched Villanelle's face next. Whatever Eve saw there made her go still and alert with discovery. Eve was decrypting an exotic alphabet, reading her in Cyrillic. "Who is Oksana, Villanelle? I want to know everything about her."

Villanelle stood unmoving by the window, her head resting on Eve's, looking into the street, tired to the bone.

************************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END!  
> I tried to leave them on a hopeful note, something that I'm painfully aware the show cannot do. Is it too much to ask for them to run away together and leave everything behind :( 
> 
> I absolutely enjoyed writing this story and hopefully you've enjoyed reading it. Any feedback, thoughts, criticism are all very much appreciated! This being my first fic, I would love to know what I did wrong, what I did right and what can be improved.  
> Thank you to all who have left words of encouragement and taken the time to read this story!! :D


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